T1D Meets the Nile: A Cruise of Adventure, Carbs, and Conquering Catastrophes

This trip to Egypt was 100% Reilly's idea. After traveling to seven countries and developing an obsession with ancient Egypt documentaries (yes, with English subtitles I had to read), he had to see Tutankhamun. I can’t even blame him—I let him binge-watch them all.

Despite having lived in Cairo for a year (and swearing to never return), I caved. Managing Type 1 Diabetes (T1D) in the chaos of Egypt felt daunting. The traffic alone could raise anyone's blood sugar, and the idea of managing diabetes during that madness? Nope. Guided tour it was. Normally, I steer clear of group tours—too many strangers and too much waiting around for latecomers. But this time? I wasn’t about to negotiate with a Cairo cab driver while Reilly had a low.

We booked an 8-day/7-night tour with Memphis Tours (highly recommend—link below). Two nights in Cairo, five nights cruising the Nile. Easy, right? Except as the trip approached, my anxiety skyrocketed. Diabetes on a boat in the middle of the Nile? Great idea. I pictured critical lows on deck, with me trying to figure out how to call for medical help in the middle of the river. The website promised three meals a day, but what about snacks? Surely there’d be a store or something, right? But what if there wasn’t?

Fear is a funny thing. The more you focus on it, the more elaborate it becomes. What started as a reasonable concern turned into imagining hippos judging me as I fumbled with Reilly’s pump. My friends (non-T1D parents) told me to relax, which is, of course, the worst thing to say to someone spiraling into diabetes-trip-planning paranoia.

Packing began weeks early. Normally, I wouldn’t pack until the night before, but diabetes makes you meticulous. Infusion sets, sensors, glucagon, insulin—you name it. Half the suitcase was medical supplies. The other half? Snacks. Protein bars, dried mango, peanut M&Ms, glucose tablets, mixed nuts, and, for reasons I still can’t explain, an entire loaf of bread and chocolate protein spread. I was fully prepared to out-snack the whole cruise ship.

Somehow, we made it to departure day without canceling. Fear didn’t win. Reilly deserves adventures, diabetes or not. T1D parents get it—the fear is always there, but so is the drive to give our kids normal experiences.

The flight was routine. Security swabbed the pump (as usual), eyed the bread (less usual), and waved us through. We landed smoothly and met our guide at the airport.

Then came breakfast. Reilly, eager to help, decided to wheel both suitcases. Great… until his infusion set snagged on the handle. "It’s fine," he insisted, but by the airport, his blood sugar said otherwise. Cue infusion set change, Cairo airport edition. Reilly handled it like a champ (though I know he wished he didn’t have to). By the time we boarded the plane, he was back in range.

The boat? Beautiful. The snack bar? Non-existent. Not even a stray granola bar at the pool bar. Luckily, I packed enough food to survive an apocalypse. Reilly powered through bread and chocolate spread for days. By day four, I think he was dreaming of vegetables, but the temples and pyramids distracted him.

Of course, diabetes had more surprises. On our last night, the CGM decided to quit. The first sensor popped out immediately. "It’s okay! I packed extra!" I thought. Except the second sensor didn’t want to cooperate either. I pictured three days of manual checks. Just as panic set in, the CGM miraculously reconnected at 3 a.m. Relief flooded me, and I finally slept… for two hours.

Surely, we were done? Nope. Mid-flight to Cairo, Reilly’s pump alarmed: high blood sugar. No food in hours. Uh-oh. I bolused insulin, but the levels kept rising. One last infusion set change—at 30,000 feet. Our last set. Nothing left for the final days. We were riding on pure luck at this point.

We survived. No supply-related disasters. Reilly gave the trip an 11.5/10. Fear didn’t win. Watching him take in Egypt with pure joy? Absolutely worth every infusion set mishap.